Tea and Toast on a Summer Morning

Some of my friends would say a title should reflect the mood or content of what is written. In this case, the title is simply what I happen to be having for breakfast, and the approximate time of year. I have to call it something, just as we have to give our children names. If I had named my son “Tea and Toast on a Summer Morning” instead of Marcus, he still would have been the same person, but would have been teased in school, or might have referred to himself as simply “T.” Anyway, that’s something celebrities sometimes do, and I’m no celebrity. Like Michael Jackson was.

Even though I have never been a big fan, I am truly saddened by his death. Michael would have turned 51 in August, just as I did earlier this month. Somewhere in “Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death,” compiled and with an introduction by Yoel Hoffman, it is mentioned that formerly in Japan, the traditional lifespan of a person was set at 50. This is not to say people did not live much longer, but that 50 was seen as a milestone, an attainment or a turning point. It’s certainly an age at which many people find themselves rethinking their lives. Heightened anxiety is not uncommon. There is a shift in temporal perspective — The view looking back is longer than the one seen forward. The moment - Now - becomes more elusive, requiring more focus even as it becomes more precious.  You may consider doing things you dreamed of doing when you were young, but put off. Or, like Michael Jackson, you plan on making a comeback.

I can only guess at what turmoil took place in his world prior to his death. Somehow, I don’t think he wrote a death poem, but I hope I’m wrong. It could be that he feared death greatly and did not approach it with respect or candor, neither as an inevitable season or as a mysterious friend. There may have been an overload of pain, denial and delusion. Who knows? What we do know is that he had his day, did his work, and left us. There are millions like him who will die softly in old age, but who will not have reached their maximum potential. I think, in a way, he died fighting, and for him that may have been the only way. 

A Break in the Action

When I started writing this, I felt mentally and physically drained. The fact that I’m still writing it, and that I just went for a good, sweaty jog, proves that I’m not. It would have been very easy not to do much of anything today. For the last three days, Tuesday through Thursday, I put in 41 hours in order to complete the IT portion of retail store projects. At least half of the work is %100 physical, requiring me to work on my knees, to lift and transport computer equipment from place to place, and to do so in an environment that is usually chaotic. It also means getting up and down from kneeling to standing several thousand times, an activity that would be the envy of the strictest Lutheran churches. It means pulling cable through cramped retail fixtures, smooth and friendly on the outside, but sharp and nasty on the inside. This really isn’t so bad for a few hours. After a few long days, though, one starts to wonder why he didn’t finish college. While I was working, someone asked me if I was on salary. I answered, ”If I were, would I be crawling around on the floor?” Well, maybe. As for pay, hourly is preferred for this type of work. I am compensated and treated fairly for my time, my skill, my experience and my loyalty. It’s also true that this particular type of work doesn’t go on forever. Projects, no matter how massive, are eventually completed, and work soon returns to to a relatively ”normal” mode (even though I’m still trying to figure out what that is for IT). Above all, though, I am convinced that the company I am working for bends over backwards for the customer. The burden of service should be totally on the backs of the employees and management, making the customer experience as care-free and satisfying as possible. That’s what I see happening. I see a successful business model; one that will continue to take care of customers and employees for many years. That, and a good paycheck, keep me as focused as possible at the end of a rigorous day.

And today, I have the day off. A day to sit in the sun and drink beer, or a day to write. I decided early on that this was not a day to work on the basement ceiling. Besides, Peg, my project manager and construction foreman, will not be home until 5:00 P.M. This gives my aches and pains time to subside to a tolerable level. It gives me time for this blog, for some reading, a run to the liquor store, and driving my 14-year-old daughter to her friend’s house for an overnight stay. It’s a break in the action, in this war we wage against each other and ourselves. Peace.